No Longer A Threat
by HowCouldThisHappenToMe
Summary: After Bill and Stan were both erased, Bill is reformed along with Stan's memories. Though he's different... And can't remember anything. Pure billford. Ford x rev Bill. Rev Bill is Will.
1. Reformation

**/WARNING SOME VIOLENCE AND GRAVITY FALLS FINALE SPOILERS AHEAD YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED/**

It's over. They won. Despite these universal truths pounding in his ears, Bill continued to scream his throat raw, clawing at the flame covered walls of Stan's mind. His fists were pounding, causing himself to catch fire, his body flashing a multiple of angry, red shades, the painless, blue flames erasing his very existence. The humanized demon screeched in frustration at the loss of his hands, slamming his forehead against the wall with a sickening crack, breaking skin and bone. Stan watched in disgust as blood poured down the demon's face, dripping into his eyes and down his chin, his injury a deep purple on the pale skin of his head, a bruise instantly forming. As they both burned out of existence, the elderly man watched the demon crumple to his knees, howling curses at every deity known, thrashing against the flames swallowing them. The last thing Stan would ever remember is Bill sobbing, the violent red turning a deep, depressing blue.

"Stanley!" "Gruncle Stan!" The voices were distant, horribly muffled and distorted to Bill's ears, but nevertheless he heard them. Gasping as if he'd never breathed before, the dream demon sat up, looking around with wild eyes, taking in deep breaths. It was dark; the first thing he noticed. Next was that he didn't know where he was, feeling as if he was suspended in space, engulfed in a suffocating black blanket. At the end of the room- if it was even a room, more like a seemingly endless hallway- there was a door, a way out. Jumping up, the confused man ran for the door, tripping a few times, now noticing his right eye wasn't functioning. It was dead, just as he felt moments ago.

He was trembling by time he got to the door, terrified of what he would find beyond, though it seemed like the better option to advance. Steeling his nerves, he twisted the door knob and stepped into a twisting hallway filled with variations of doors and the laughter of children. Everything was a mess, colors and sounds mixing and bouncing off each other; it was making him sick, absolutely nauseous with a pounding in his head. Half of his empty mind was telling him to go back into the room, stay hidden and just rot away, while the other half wanted him to find out where he was, who he was, and how to get out. Running a hand through his pale blue hair, not noticing the blood he was smearing, the dream demon began walking, peaking into the rooms he passed.

Inside some where children, a boy and a girl, twins perhaps, with matching brown hair and eyes. The poor girls mouth was infested with ungodly hideous metal, though it didn't look terrible on her, while the boy beside her didn't seem to know how colors worked. They laughed and smiled, wide and innocent, calling after someone; it was unclear in their excitement, the words jumbled together. Moving along, there was a man, with cracked glasses and a lab coat, a warm looking sweater underneath. This person he recognized instantly; Stanford Pines. Though their relation was unknown, the demon knew he must find him, Ford could tell him who he was! Gathering some other bits of information from various rooms on his way out, the laughing children from before had shaped up to be monsters; they terrorized mythical creatures, disturbed natural order, and destroyed a demon, something no normal child should be able to accomplish, let alone be allowed to do. A full body shudder of fear ran through him from bloodied hair to slick black shoes, tears pressing to his good eye. What if the children tried to kill him before he reached Ford, or worse yet, wouldn't let him see him?

Upon finding the exit located in a secluded portion of the space he was in, the demon took one last glance around trying to gather any last idea of where he was, picking the unknown over the unnatural space, he stepped through the doorway. He woke up again in the middle of the forest, a small clearing closed in with towering pine trees, though it felt completely natural to be there, staring up at the cloudless, blue sky, everything seeming to hold it's breath at his presence, either in awe or fear. Slowly, the man got up, brushing himself off. He noticed he was dressed rather formally, and in a lot of blue, though his clothes seemed to be a bit burned, and covered in a dark liquid. His head throbbed, as if trying to remember what was the cause for his appearance, and he let out a pained cry, feeling like his head was splitting in half. He crumpled to his knees, clutching his head and letting out wails and screeches to express his uncontrolled pain. Sobbing for what felt like hours, he waited for the splitting pain to subside before shakily standing up and beginning his journey out of the forest, letting his feet carry him where they knew to go, even if the destination was unclear to himself and he tripped every few steps.

Fatigued from his walk and the events prior, the demon stumbled into the Mystery Shack-which oddly lacked people-the twins instantly taking in his dishevelled state and looking upon him with startled recognition, as if they had just seen him yesterday. The boy wasted no time darting out of the room, shoes skidding against the floor, calling for his great uncles, while the girl, sympathetic of his appearance and tears, watched as he fell to his knees, sobbing hysterically for no given reason. He was scared, utterly terrified of the children he encountered first, only wanting to see the familiar face of the man he didn't know anything about. The tears flowed down his face and dripped onto the floor, his breathing becoming ragged as the two elderly men burst into the room followed by the boy. Stan was ready to punch the demon again, only being held back by his brother's stern look and shake of his head. Approaching the crying mass on the floor, Ford kneeled down in front of him, not expecting the demon to immediately look up and latch onto him, burying his face into the older man's chest.

"Bi-?" Ford didn't get to finish his question, or even the demon's name, before an unfamiliar shaky voice cut him off, spatting out questions that had everyone in the room ceasing movement and watching with either suspicion or sympathy.

"F-Ford! Ford! W-where am I? Who a-are these people?" He took a breath, the breath shallow and doing nothing to calm him, his eye darting around the room and over the faces of the humans present.

"Who am I?"


	2. Calming Down

**/yikes already at chapter two. I added more details to chapter one if anyone cares for that, though nothing plot related changed. Just so you guys know I write these once, then read over them 3 times adding details and clarifications and the like/**

Stunned silence clung to the air in the room, leaving the only sound that of the sniffling and near hyperventilating demon. No one knew how to react to those questions, wondering about their authenticity. Ford was the first one to snap out of his daze as the demon pressed himself closer, trying to hide himself from the others present, as if he believed they would harm him if he made eye contact. It was odd seeing the once loud and proud man reduced to a whimpering mess of paranoia and amnesia; it tugged at Ford's heart stings, never having seen this side of him before. Soon enough, three voices cut through his thoughts, all offering opinions on the matter even if they weren't desired. The girl spoke first, arms flailing and voice raised as if that would capture the man's attention.

"Gruncle Ford we have to help him! Just look, he's hurt and crying!" The usually happy voice of the girl held such worry it made the demon's heart ache, like he didn't deserve her pity, and he let out a whimper, starting to cry again.

Her brother instantly jumped in at that, face hot with anger. "Mabel, are you insane? He tried to kill us and everyone else!" He hissed, pointing at the blue man with an accusing stance, eyes holding such venom. Ford was glad the demon couldn't hear Dipper over his own cries.

Ford looked down at the demon clinging to him, shivering and softly crying, as his brother knelt beside him, resting a hand firmly on his shoulder. "I don't like this, Pointdexter, I saw him die, he was a mess, but he was murderous as ever." He mumbled into his ear, trying to give some insight, a reminder of what they had discussed. There was a short discussion after Stan regained his memories, particularly about Stan remembering the erasing of them both, on the possibility of Bill returning, but they hadn't expected him to turn out like this, a weak, anything but demonic, cry baby.

"He doesn't even know who he is.." Ford replied, not taking his eyes off the demon in case he did something, though he seemed to be calm and sleeping. Sighing and exchanging looks, the men stood, one supporting the demon, the other forcing the children to cease their bickering. Ford carried the demon into the living room, receiving a cry of protest, and a proclamation of a volunteered nurse from the children. It seemed, through all his crying and fatigue, the blue haired man had fallen into a deep sleep, fingers clutching Ford's sweater hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Laying him down, the scientist pried his fingers off, studying his face, nothing but pity in his eyes. There was blood everywhere, caked on his forehead and around his nose, his neck and shirt collar stained as well. There was a swelled break in his forehead, and Ford figured this was the injury Stan had described in their discussion. It made him feel sick to think the demon would go as far as to crack his own skull for the hope of freedom.

Ford took great care wiping the blood and tears off his pale skin, reveling a light dust of freckles and deep bags under his eyes. One eye of his didn't seem to close all the way, and upon inspection he discovered the clouded iris as a sign of blindness, another tug at his heart strings; Bill hadn't even reformed fully, the eye proof of a premature finish.

The boy watched with distrust as his sister, Mabel, tended to the small man's wound, promising to make him an eye patch and a sweater by time he woke up as she placed a band aid on his forehead. She was always too trusting, easily forgiving, it often got her into trouble, but she would do it anyway, she loved people. He didn't believe the amnesia story for a second; he remembered Ford after all, and Dipper didn't believe he could remember anything if he was truly an amnesiac. His small 13 year old body seethed with hate, with anger and betrayal, with distrust. How dare the demon not stay dead and come running back here, clinging and crying to Ford. Before he could storm away to fume alone in his room, a hand came to rest on his head and he looked up at his great uncle shaking his head, silently telling him not to be so upset and just let what ever happens, happen. Stan himself wasn't too thrilled about the whole ordeal, but it was all their fault. They wanted Stan back, wanted his memories back, so Bill just came along for the ride, formed only by Stan's returned memories.

Once the demon was patched up and sleeping comfortably, with no risk of hurting himself or others, Ford called a family meeting as they all made their way into the kitchen. There was going to be a long discussion on what to do with their now docile enemy. Of course Dipper and Stan refused letting the demon stay there, arguing that he could be lying and out for revenge, while Mabel insisted that Bill would never resort himself to crying openly or acting so terrified.

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose, conflicted if he wanted to help the demon and fill his mind with humane thoughts and actions, or force him to leave with the risk of death, or worse; regaining his own memories.


	3. Waking Up

Pain. Pain everywhere. The neausiating throbbing in his head combined with the ache of his exhausted body had Bill moving sluggishly to sit up, a groan escaping his chapped lips. Placing a cool hand to his head, his eyes scanned the room, slowly taking in his surroundings. Had he been here before? It felt like he knew this place well, but he couldn't put his finger on why. It was quiet in the shack, an eriness that made Bill cautious about attracting the wrong company. Instead of investigating the space around him, Bill laid back down on the couch, curling up with the blanket he just noticed drapped over his body.

Mabel always was an early riser. She liked to greet the sun every morning and throw open the Windows to wake her brother up. Not today however. No, she needed him to stay asleep. Bill was downstairs and it seemed only she and Ford held any sympathy for his condition. Slowly, she crawled out of bed and tip toed to the door, stepping on just the right parts of the floor to make the least amount of squeaks. Grinning in victory when Dipper didn't so much as turn over, she nearly tumbled down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

She peaked her head into the living room to see Bill staring blankly at the wall across from him, unmoving and not blinking. It was quite a sight to see him like this, quiet and afraid. Picking up her first aid kit by the door, she walked in, rattling the plastic case to alert him to her presence. She nearly froze in place when that gaze snapped onto her, wide eyed and fearful. It was intense as if he was screaming at her to leave with just his eyes, one not even functioning. She held her breath and smiled, reassuringly, as she made her way over and sat in front of him, palms exposed to appear nonthreatening.

"Hi there." Mabel greeted, her usually booming voice a sweet whisper to sooth him. It was Bill's turn to hold his breath as he looked at her, taking in what was in front of him. Was she going to reclean his wound? That seemed silly in his opinion; a little blood never hurt anybody.

"Where's Ford?" He blurted after an uncomfortable silence, worrying his lower lip in between his teeth. Mabel puffed her cheeks out with a huff and began rummaging through her kit, getting another band aid.

"He's sleeping. You'll see him later. I'm just here to give you a new band aid!" She held up two choices for him, one with vibrant flowers and the other a shimmering gold. He pointed towards the flowers and she stared, dumbfounded. Was this really Bill; the demon that only thought of himself and his desires? What kind of power hungry demon wants flowers on their forehead? She shook her head and slowly leaned forward, ignoring Will leaning back. She had him cornered by the couch when she gently pressed the new band aid to his skin.

"I'll go get Ford for you." Mabel whispered before leaving to get her great uncle, letting Bill lay there and run his fingers reverently over the printed adhesive. Ford arrived minutes later in a daze, as if he hadn't slept in years and was cautious to approach, even when Bill scrambled up to meet him, tripping over his own fatigued feet. He had begun to cry again, forcing his way into the scientist's hold. He wanted to be comforted, to be held by a familiar face and warm body. He wanted the pounding in his head to go away and most of all he wanted answers.

Ford awkwardly patted the shorter male's head, moving them both back to the couch so Bill could sit down. "Let's talk."


End file.
